


Ne'er a Fear of Drowning

by Antisafic



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: All Human, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Dragons, F/M, How to Train Your Dragon AU, I just really wanted a fic after hearing the song, M/M, Mild Angst, Slow Burn, Unusual Smaug, bagginshield, no dwarves, or hobbits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antisafic/pseuds/Antisafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All his life, Bilbo knew that a knock at the door in the middle of the night was always a sign of trouble. It was present the night his father died, the night his mother took ill, the dark morning he was made chief, and -as he calls it- the worst night of his life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Savage seas

   All his life, Bilbo knew that a knock at the door in the middle of the night was always a sign of trouble. It was present the night his father died, the night his mother took ill, the dark morning he was made chief, and -as he calls it- the worst night of his life.

The rapping that woke him from his blissful slumber on this particular night only grew more  insistent the longer he ignored it. The morning light had not even touched the edges of the great waters (for the Gods’ sake) The curly-haired hobbit pulled his blanket up and draped it over his head. Though perhaps it was bad conduct for a chief to ignore late night dilemmas that brought people out of their beds to his door.

Releasing a deep sigh, Bilbo rose from the bed, Myrtle flying through the open trapdoor window above his head. The old Deadly Nadder landed on the floor, with grace that belied her age. The she-dragon nudged him with a pained voice, and Bilbo felt a tiny seed of worry start to plant in his gut. Her uneasiness was not to be ignored.

“Bilbo!” A hurried voice finally called, and Bilbo quickly leapt from the bed, dressing himself - not his usual standard, of course - just enough to be decent.   

“By Odin’s beard, Hamfast! It’s not even daybreak!” he scowled at the man opening the door, tying his jerkin over a light cotton shirt.

“Sorry to bother you so late,  Bilbo, but it’s the outpost. They sent a messenger that there’s to be ships headin’ our way.” Hamfast said, taking off his helmet and worrying the metal along the edges.

“Rivendells?” Bilbo called, suprised. It was too soon in the season to began their trading agreements.

“No we don’t recognize them, and from what the scouts say, they look meaner than a Gronckle’s mother.”

“I’ll go see what I can do.” Bilbo said, calling Myrtle over and readying her tack.

“Best be careful, Bilbo.” Hamfast said with a small voice.

Bilbo made a small noise of agreement, but something about Hamfast’s tone struck him as odd. He turned to look at his friend, only to be made more suspicious by the man’s twitching.

“Hamfast?” he asked gently.

“It’s just, they don’t have any dragons with them, is all.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes and suddenly scanned behind him. The lot of the village had gathered around his home. It seemed that the news had spread quickly.  Even the dragons were antsy, as though they could feel something he didn’t. His sleepy state had obviously blocked out the tension in the air.  

The Shire was a small village, peaceful and plentiful. War had never graced their doors, and by the will of Elrond and Gandalf the Great Dragon Rider they stayed separate from the rest of the world. Bungo had been chieftain of the village before him, and Mungo before that, their line had keeping  the village going in the face of whatever danger. Bilbo would sooner throw himself to Hel herself before he let this escalate.

“I will see this ship myself. Perhaps they are in need? Or lost? Nevertheless, I will return soon,” Bilbo called to the crowd. There was a quiet murmur that sounded suspicious, but the villagers took this as a reassurance, and flitted off back to their homes.

Bilbo gave himself a reassuring nod.“Hamfast?” He asked the man as he began to pack Myrtle. The other had not moved, and perked up at the sound of his name. “If - though I doubt it - this is a fools errand, and I fall, you know what to do,” he said quietly, securing the last straps to his saddle.

Hamfast looks appalled. “Drogo is just a lad, he wouldn’t be ready.”

Bilbo smiled. “Then you will have your work cut out for you,” He said, gripping the edge of Myrtle’s horn and jumping onto the seat. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he called as he took to the sky.

The sky  is calm, and still chilly with late-night air. The wind is sharp against his face, biting even for spring. This freedom was something Bilbo looked forward to every chance he could, but he could not enjoy it today. Going by her rigid wings, Myrtle is on edge. It’s concerning. His mother had been a great rider, fearing little, and Myrtle was a reflection of that bravery. To see her so disturbed left him with an unsettling feeling so strong that he could practically taste  it.

The outpost on the tall broken sea stack was quiet when he landed, except for the muttering of the men sitting around the fire.

“Ah, Bilbo, thank Vahala you’re here.” Bilbo nodded and greeted Togo, one of his many  cousins. “They’ve changed course, it seems they had been riding on the wind and once they got too close they left off towards Rivendell.” The man was looking out over the sea. “Something’s strange though. From what we could see, the ships were burned. Dragon fire, by the looks of it.”

“Dragons? They were attacked?” Bilbo asked back.

“We don’t know. I went out to see what I could, but they didn’t see me. Meanest lookin’ bunch I ever saw. Didn’t have any dragons with them, and no flags I recognised.”

“Yes, Hamfast said as much.” Bilbo muttered thoughtfully.

“Will you go to meet them?” Togo asked. “If they’re truly not headed our way, it might be for the best.”

“And if they have been attacked the least we can do is offer our help.” Bilbo decided. “I’ll go to meet them.”

“Be careful Bilbo,” Togo said, gasping his shoulder. Bilbo gripped Togo’s in return, nodding before returning to Myrtle and climbing back into the night sky.

He found the ship easily even in the cover of night by the dots of firelight visible on the water. The closer he got, the more fire damage he could see.

He never saw the net. Looking back, even years later, he didn’t think that he would have seen it even if he _had_ been looking. One moment he was flying, the next his world was spinning and Myrtle was calling and lashing about. He gripped her tightly, and they landed hard, on a wooded deck.

The world blurred at the edges of his vision as Myrtle was ripped away from him, thrown over the side still tangled in the net. He screamed, and his captors flew back in the face of his anguish. Swifter than Sleipnir he was racing to the edge of the boat. Two pairs of arms ripped him from the edge as he fought to try and rescue Myrtle.

“Let me go! I need to save her!” He yelled over and over again. The arms never gave up, and Bilbo knew the longer he stayed tethered, the smaller were his chances of rescuing his dragon.

After what felt like hours -though it must have only been minutes- of screaming and fighting, the blood in his body grew cold and he slumped. The men holding his arms released him almost instantly as Bilbo fell to the ground in a heap.

“Who are you?” A voice asked.

Bilbo turned ice cold eyes to the man now standing above him. He was built like stone. Menacing - a murderer.

“I asked, who are you?” the voice said,  its tones heavily accented in a way that Bilbo had never heard before.

“You killed her.” he said in a small voice.

“She was a dragon.” The man spat out, unconcerned.

“You monsters killed her, in cold blood!” Bilbo cried. He was up again immediately, and this time, no one thought to detain him. “She -She was my mothers, a kind hearted creature, caring, a mother to many and as good a friend any could ask for, and you just threw her off as though she was some- some - “ Bilbo felt the pull of new grief, and he couldn’t force the words out past the weight  in his throat.

“She was a dragon.” The man repeated, but this time it was harder.

“You keep saying that! Yes! She is a dragon! She was my dragon!” Bilbo yelled.

The raven-haired man didn’t seem swayed, but the crew around him peered at Bilbo, muttering at the commotion.

“Itkit!” The man ordered, in what must be the language that pulled at his speech. Suddenly, the boat was quiet, with all eyes on him.

“I’ll say it one more time, and I’ll get an answer or I’ll throw you over with your worm. Who are you?” The man said, crossing his arms. The man was built like the gods himself, Bilbo noticed dazedly. All muscle and taunt skin. “Well?”

Bilbo stood up straighter, crossing his own arms. “My name is Bilbo. I am chieftain of the Shire, home of the western dragon riders. You entered our waters, and our scouts reported ships in possible need of help. Odin help me, here I am, and you have killed my dragon.”

The man lowered his arms. Whatever he had been prepared for, it clearly wasn’t what Bilbo was. A resentful giddiness pulled at Bilbo’s lips. There was a whispering in the crowed as this newly developed information was passed around.

Had there been more daylight, Bilbo might have caught the bit of red creeping up the man's cheeks.

Proper manner seemed to win the battle.“Thorin, Chieftain of the Great East Mountain of Erebor, at your service.” The man said with a little bow. “We do not wish for your help, so you may leave.”

“And how do you suppose I do that, with my dragon gone?” Bilbo bit with a voice steadier than he felt.

“There will be no need for that, I should hope,” a voice said.

Thorin sighed, and turned to look at the elderly man who had appeared at Thorin’s side.

“Gandalf!”

“Bilbo. If you would take a moment, we need to talk,” Gandalf said gently.

Bilbo reached for his knife. Gandalf was supposed to be “The Greatest Dragon Rider,” yet here he stood, witness to Myrtle’s murder.

“You were here the whole time!?” he yelled, only mildly amused when Thorin flinched in surprise.

“Bilbo, I will explain everything, just please, calm down,” Gandalf said calmly, putting up a hand.

“Calm down!” he yelled, exasperated. “Calm down You’ve grown insane, Gandalf, that was Myrtle they just threw off the boat, which _need I remind you_ was Belladonna - your friend’s - dragon! And you have the nerve to tell me to calm down,” harurmphed Bilbo, giving Gandalf a glare that he had found very effective in council meetings.    

“Bilbo!” Gandalf shouted back with such  force and presence that Bilbo was sure that even the water had gone silent  in submission. “I am sorry for your loss, but please, I need a word. Thorin, if you would?”

Bilbo felt tears prickle his eyes, and had to look away while the crew and a very reluctant Thorin went out of earshot.

“Now, Bilbo, I had not expected such a strong reaction. You must trust me on this.  They have their reasons. For all that Thorin will say, he is in desperate need of help, and you, my boy, will be the one that can help them.”

“And why would I help them?” There was a darkness in his voice that Bilbo had never heard before, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Gandalf.

“Because, Bilbo, of who you are. You have your father’s leadership, and your mother’s compassion. You are Bungo and Belladonna’s son and they would never have left people in need,”  Gandalf said, putting his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’m afraid there is no time to think. We must hurry, it was by Odin’s will that you are even here. Thorin decided not hours ago that we would forgo asking for the Shire’s help.”

“Do they know?”

“That I am a dragon rider, no.” Bilbo pondered this and stepped back.

“I will listen to them, That is all.”

Gandalf smiled. “I could ask for no more than that.” 


	2. Waves of Life

Watching Gandalf walk back to the rest of crew, Bilbo grew anxious. Whatever tragic loss they had undergone should not excuse them of such horrors towards innocent dragons. But Bilbo had said that he would listen, and he would. Not least because he couldn’t get home otherwise. That thought left him with a sour taste in his mouth, and a weight in his stomach.

Thorin was talking with an elderly man with his white beard in two thick loose braids that flipped out at the ends. As soon as he saw that Gandalf had joined them, he nodded to Bilbo. As he approached the speakers, Bilbo saw that the Chief had piercing blue eyes that seemed to grow softer the closer he came. “If I may have a word as well,” he asked softly. Bilbo narrowed his eyes, but nodded nevertheless.

Thorin kept his head angled low, but still looked Bilbo in the eye. He may have been imagining it, but Thorin looked almost apologetic. It looked somehow wrong on him. Bilbo scowled, and, knowing he was acting the child, allowed Thorin to stew in his silence.

“It has come to my attention that I, we, may have made a drastic mistake,” Thorin starts.

“You mean murdering my dragon,” Bilbo muttered angry.

Thorin winces. “We have grieved you, and I find myself in a position where I cannot ask you to forgive our actions. While I have been reminded that we are in need of help, I cannot ask you in good faith to aid us after such a smirch on our honor,” Thorin continued.

“No, I do now know what honor there is to be had in the killing of innocent creatures,” Bilbo spat out acidically.

Thorin seems at a loss for words, opening his mouth and closing it again. He is clearly agonized, and it pleases Bilbo. The longer they stand there, though, the more Bilbo is aware of how he has no way of leaving, save diving into the water.   

He sighs. “I have told Gandalf that I will listen to your plight, but I have no investment in your problems. I am a clan leader, and I cannot abandon my people for murderers.” Thorin nods, but Bilbo holds up a hand. “However, as stated before, our scouts reported ships in need of help. While I refuse to help you with whatever goal you have, if there are any supplies or food which you need, I will give it. No more.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes. Bilbo tightens under his gaze, unsure of how to continue.

“You are strange.”

Bilbo puffs up and crosses his arms, his expression hard. Thorin grimaces, and steps back. “I only meant that after such an offense from my people you are willing to go so far to aid us,” he stumbles to back-track.

“We are a peaceful people. Gandalf is a friend of our village - despite what I feel right now - and if it were not for him, I might not be standing here today. He is mainly why I will listen to you.”

Thorin nods in understanding, then squares his shoulders and calls for the rest of the crew to come back.

“Well, now that we are all here, Bilbo, I think it is time you hear why.” Gandalf said. Bilbo childishly doesn't look in his direction, instead side-eyeing Thorin.

“I would like to know, yes.”

“Our people hail from Erebor, a mountain far to the east. We were prosperous, and we had not seen much of dragons - they were a rarity for our land. During the fall a few years ago. we were attached by a dragon. A large beast, covered in gold and jewels-”

“Wait!” Bilbo interrupted. His anger dissipated, replaced with fear. He turned to Gandalf, eyes huge. “The Boneknapper?”

“One and the same, I’m afraid.”

Thorin, still annoyed from being interrupted, now looked between Gandalf and Bilbo.

“You know of this dragon?”

“Yes, my apologies, continue,” Bilbo mollified, waving him on.

“Our people mostly keep underground, to dig and mine. We have learned to create great crafts from the gems we find, and use them to trade for whatever else we need. My grandfather was the first to begin such operations. We have grown wealthy with it, but it attracted the dragon and his army. We were swarmed, and lost many lives. Those that made it out were scattered. Some fled to my cousin, a chieftain east of Erebor. When spring came, we searched and found some others in outlying villages. I led them to Bree, where we have stayed ever since.

That is where we met with Gandalf. He has told me that it would be wise to go back to Erebor and try and regain it. He has also advised us to seek help from the surrounding peoples, He did, however, _fail_ to mention that many of this land are Dragonriders.” At this, Thorin turned to scowl at a very dour-looking Gandalf. “Which is why we are in such a predicament.”

Bilbo leaned against the edge of the boat, digesting the new information. If this truly was the Boneknapper, then it drastically changed how involved he really was. How long had he dreamed of taking out the Alpha dragon?

“I am curious, how do you know of this dragon?” Thorin asks regarding Bilbo.

“It is a long story, and when I last saw him, it was only his head and upper body in gems. I fear what he looks like now,” Bilbo whispers.

“I have been tracking him for a some time now. He has almost completely encrusted himself in gold. He has also become an mighty Alpha reigning in dragons from other herds. He has taken Erebor and his nest has only grown,” Gandalf chimes in.

Bilbo places shaking hands on the edge of the boat, its sway a comfort for his troubled thoughts. Gandalf has lost all trust he could ever hope to have from Bilbo, but to take out the _Boneknapper_? It is a decision Bilbo does not make lightly, and one he is loath to make in his pain.

“I will help you.” Bilbo says suddenly. “I must first speak with my village, but I will assist where I can.”

“I already told you I cannot, will not ask for your help.” Thorin states.

“You don’t have to. This is personal,” Bilbo replies, turning to Gandalf and smiling. “Gandalf, I would very much like to stop by my home and tell Hamfast where I am going and to get real traveling clothes.”

The old man narrows his eyes. Bilbo, unimpressed, just crosses his arms. “If you had told them in the beginning that you are also a Dragonrider, I might still have Myrtle. You do this, my life debt is repaid.”

The man looked devastated for a moment, torn between his cover and the guilt he no doubt feels. Bilbo stares him down, and the old man relents with a sigh. Raising his hands to his mouth, Gandalf gave a mighty whistle, causing those nearest cover their ears.  A pillar of water rises out of the ocean, and soon giant wings beat against the waves. Thorin’s men gather to react and reset the nets but Thorin yells at them to hold their ground even while holding the hilt of his own sword.

Shadowfax. It had been years since Bilbo had seen Gandalf's dragon. He is massive, with white scales, slightly darker underbelly and legs, a graceful long neck, and kind intelligent eyes. The beast hovered for a while holding something in it’s front paws.

Bilbo’s eyes widened, and he ran to the beast, who deposits his catch onto the deck.

Myrtle. The elderly she-dragon is still. At least the net is gone. Bilbo collapses next to her body, and with shaking hands strokes her head. Shadowfax, now half in the water, leans his head down and blows air onto Bilbo.

“Thank you.” Bilbo whispers, patting the dragon’s long snout. The beast pulls away, and Bilbo focuses on Myrtle. He opens his mouth to speak the final rite of dragons, but he finds his voice catches. He has to cough, which comes out more as a sob.

He chokes out the pain, resting his head to her forelock of spikes. “Odin watch over you, may the wind under your wings carry you to Valhalla and have you reunite with Belladonna, to fly across the battlefield and dine in the Hall of Waiting.” He says proud of the steadiness of his voice.

Bilbo presses harder to her scales, and he realizes that there are tears dripping down onto his hands. Grief is something he has long experience with, and it hurts that he’s lost yet another member of his family.

He looks at Shadowfax through his tears. If the dragon had been tailing them, than the great beast would have pulled her free sooner if she had been struggling, with or without Gandalf’s order. The old man must have been waiting for Shadowfax to bring her up if she was still alive. Myrtle had died in the water, but not from drowning. She was old, true, but Bilbo had thought she’d have more in her. The knowledge that her old age had taken her away from him rather than the harshness of water is a balm to his heart.

Drying his eyes, Bilbo stood up and squared his shoulders. Turning around, he saw Gandalf and Thorin having a staring contest. Gandalf, for his part, at least looked chagrined, but Thorin was stern.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo said imperiously.

The man turns to him and gives a sad nod. “If you must. Thorin, I will meet back up with you with at sunrise, at which point we will head to Rivendell. I must talk to Elrond.” Thorin, who had been looking at Myrtle oddly, turned to Bilbo and nodded.

Gandalf comes up to Shadowfax, rubbing the dragon’s nose and smiling when the beast rumbled deep in his chest. Bilbo scowls at the man, still not having forgiven him, and grips the edge of a wing, swinging into the seat. Together, they take to the sky.

They bring Myrtle’s body to the village, and many turn out to honor her. It’s a sight Bilbo is glad to see. The dragons take it from there, taking her body to be mourned by her children in private.

Hamfast is, of course, angry when Bilbo is done explaining. “Bilbo, that dragon is bad news. You know this, and yet you still plan to go after him?” trying to talk sense into his chieftain while Bilbo pulls this and that into a bag. “What of the village?”

“Drogo will take over for the time being, and Rorimac can help him. He’s a good diplomat.”

“Bilbo, Drogo is just a boy, he won’t be able to handle it,” Hamfast argues.

“Hamfast, the Shire is plentiful and calm, we’ve not seen battle in years, and Elrond will be notified. Besides, I think you have forgotten that I was only a year older than Drogo when I became clan chief.”

“Bilbo as a friend, I’m telling you that you can’t do this. You remember the last time you saw that Dragon.”

“Hamfast!” Bilbo snapped, turning around. “Please, just let me do this.”

Hamfast grew quiet, placing a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Just, just come home, okay?”

Bilbo’s eyebrows pinch and he covers Hamfast’s hand with his. “I will do my best.” This doesn’t seem to pacify the man, but he touches Bilbo’s forehead with two fingers, whispering a quick prayer.

The sun is just rising, and the gibianna from the water reflects off the silver dragon’s scales when they see the ships again. Bilbo jumps from the dragons back, and rolls on to the deck.

“Gandalf, I think it would be wise to part here. I can guide them from here.” Bilbo says turning to the old man who is hovering from Shadowfax’s back. He gapes at Bilbo, who in turn scowls. Gandalf nods, taking to the sky.

“Welcome back Bilbo,” Thorin says, as they watch Gandalf leave.

Bilbo turns to the ship’s crew. “I am here to assist in taking down the Boneknapper. I will hunt for my own food and pay my own way. I expect no help nor will I consort with anyone else but the chieftain or a elder. That being said, I would find it wise to forewarn you that Rivendell is also a home of Dragonriders, and harming one on their land will incur the wrath of Elrond himself.”

He looks out amongst the faces of the crew. Those that understood him turned to those who didn’t, and Thorin gives a slight bow.  The elderly man with the split beard comes forward.

“I am Balin, the clan’s Elder. Welcome, Chieftain Bilbo, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”


	3. Tidal Class

Bilbo soon learned that Thorin’s company was vastly disparate in personalities. They were thirteen in number, making Bilbo the fourteenth member on a quest to reclaim Erebor from the Alpha Boneknapper - that he had since learned been named _Smaug_.

It was daring, to be sure. Fourteen men with no dragons, to take down an Alpha. It wasn’t possible. Not without dragons on their side, at any rate. How was Bilbo supposed to be able to convince them to touch, let alone ride, a dragon? They weren't even aware of what was in front of them. He’d noticed, and continued to survey, a school of Scauldrons chase their young just below the waterline as he considered the current situation.

Six days had passed since Gandalf's departure, and it would be another two days by boat to Rivendell. Oh, how Bilbo longed for dragonflight. Far faster to ride the wind than to depend on its fickle nature on the water.  Balin was polite at least, he could hold a conversation and was a decent politician. Thorin was just as aloof since the night that Bilbo fell onto his ship. After day three, Bilbo had withdrawn his demand to only speak to Elders and their Chief. If only for the fact that it had left him very bored.

A clearing throat drew Bilbo’s attention away from the water, and he turned to see Bofur. The man spoke only little English, but Bilbo was loath to admit that he liked the man anyway. Bofur was kind, and made sure that Bilbo wanted for little. He was the one to hand him his meals, and eased the tension at dinners with his flute.

The fur-hatted man leaned against the railing, offering Bilbo an apple with a dimpled smile, which Bilbo happily accepted. They sat in silent companionship, broken only by the dull murmur of the crew, the crunching noises of Bilbo’s chewing, and the crashing of the waves in tune with the call of seagulls.

Bofur kept giving glances back to the crew and then looking back, as if he wanted to say something. It took some gentle looks and idle chatter from Bilbo before he got anywhere.

“I want to ask?” Bofur started asking, slowly, as though to make sure he was using the right words. “Why do you call it … boneknapper?” he finally asked.  

Bilbo mulled this over. “If I may ask, before I answer - what you know of dragons?”

Bofur gave Bilbo an uncertain look, pursing his lips. He quickly glanced at Thorin, and then Balin, seeming little inclined to answer. Whether due to lack of communication skills or allowance to give information to him, Bilbo didn’t know. At last, Bofur held up a hand in a universal signal to wait, and fled. Bilbo shook his head. He didn’t understand these men. They were cut from a very different cloth than those he had dealt with previously.

To his surprise, Bofur dragged Thorin back with him.

“Bilbo.” Thorin spoke politely, nodding his head. “Bofur says you wish to know more.”

“He was curious as to why I call Smaug a boneknapper and I first wanted to know about what you know of dragons.”

“All we have known is that dragons are dangerous. They kill without mercy and burn everything,” Thorin replied curtly. He studied Bilbo, deflating by the second. Bilbo is unsure if it’s Myrtle’s death stalling the fuming about his hatred for Dragons. “We defend our own. We had only a small variety of dragons at home in Erebor.” Bilbo raised his eyebrows in sign for him to continue. “We have those that you rode. We call them Zundushelurs. I believe you call them-?” Thorin leaves off waving his hand.

“Deadly nadders.”  Bilbo finishes.

“An odd name for something you call kind.” Thorin mutters wearily.

“Dragons have been domesticated here for a long time. The names they were given were gained long before my time. It is no secret that Vikings were enemies of dragons in the past. I did not have the foresight to think it was unchanged to all. All the clans I have ever known are dragonriders.”

Thorin glowered at him, but kept whatever foul contempt he felt inside. “There is another we have. Uzgar, a fearsome creature with giant wings, that can cut whole trees down in short order.”

“Timberjacks,” Bilbo mumbled. While the creatures were the hardest to tame they were also one of the most timid, preferring to live in long valleys and hang off the cliff faces. “Go on.”

“That is it.”

“What?” Bilbo asked shocked. He peered up at the other chief looking for any sort of jest. The man turned defensive, crossing his arms as he looked down at Bilbo. “That is it?” He repeated.

“Other than distant glances in Bree and here, those are the only dragons we have come in contact with before or since that vile thing rained fire upon us.” Thorin snapped.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” Bilbo gasped. He winced as soon as he realised how this was taken, and Thorin’s scowl only grew darker. “I mean no offence.”  Thorin, apparently mollified, eased up on his glowering. “There are more than a hundred species of dragons. You’re crew has been above a herd of Scauldrons now for the last league.”

Bilbo realised, a little too late, that he had said the wrong thing. Thorin and Bofur practically threw themselves at the railing to look down into the water. Bilbo waited for Thorin to give the orders for the crew to arm themselves, but instead, was treated to a view of them in almost childlike wonder at the Scauldrons’ rippling forms underneath the ship.

“Are we safe?” Thorin asked, glancing at Bilbo for guidance before looking back to the water.

Bilbo looked at the two men. His whole perception of this crew had been under the impression that they were ignorant, and killed dragons for sport. He hadn’t entertained the idea that they simply _didn’t know_. Where dragons so few and far between inland? While he was still angry over Myrtle’s death, his more darker ire had left with Gandalf.

Bilbo examined the crew with measured glances. They weren't mean, per say. True, they were rougher than anyone in the Shire; they headbutted each other, and were loutish at times, but they cared for each other. Had he been wrong?

“You are as safe as you make yourself,” Bilbo shrugged. Thorin side-eyed him, unbelieving. Finally, he left Bofur alone to watch the herd as he stood up to his full height.

“Show us,” he commanded.

“Pardon?” Bilbo spluttered. Show them what?

“Show us how to tame dragons.”

“That was not part of the deal.” Bilbo uttered back breathless. While he wasn’t upset about the idea itself, the suddenness of the whole thing left him feeling vulnerable.

“We need dragons to kill dragons, correct?” Thorin asked slowly.

“Well, yes.” Bilbo agreed, not noticing the growing crowd. “But, right now?” At Thorin’s nod, his eyes were drawn to the two younger ones - Fili and Kili, if Bilbo recalled - calling to drop anchor. “Wait, wait, I can’t just teach you out here, each dragon is special and unique and I don’t even have the right equipment.”

Thorin gave him an unamused look. Bilbo felt his ears turn pink at all the eyes on him. It was obvious that a lot of the crew had no idea what was going on.

“Fine, then. Lesson one. Strip.” He ordered at Thorin already pulling off his belt and coat. If he was going to be embarrassed, he was going to drag Thorin down with him.   

The Chief gave a strangled sound, but proceeded to follow orders. Bilbo, now only in simple trousers and shirt, turned, hoping to have Thorin at least a little embarrassed. Instead, he was greeted to a very shirtless and heavily tattooed Thorin, who was calmly talking down Dwalin, who seemed ill at ease with the situation. Bilbo blanched. The man was blessed with the physique of an Aesir. Bilbo frowned but decided to ignore the self consciousness that left him leaping over the edge of the boat and hanging off the railing.

Feeling the nose of a young Scauldron instantly touch the bottom of his foot, Bilbo smiled. He gripped the apple Bofur had given him, holding it above the water while he gently nudged the dragonling. There were gasps and startled shouts when the dragon poked it’s head above water, nuzzling at Bilbo’s hand for the apple. Laughing, Bilbo tossed it in the air and watched the dragon snap it up. He looked expectantly to Thorin, and asked Bofur to procure more apples and a fish or two.

Thorin stiffened before gracefully climbing over the ledge and slipped into the water. Dwalin moved to the side and glowered down at the water and waited for anything that might harm his chief.

Bofur handed Bilbo an apple, quickly pulling his hand back as the dragon’s head popped out again. He decided to play now, moving the apple back and forth, chuckling as the dragon moved its head to follow. The youngster concentrated on the apple, and Bilbo didn’t even stop it when it pulled its front paw up to hold the lapel of the wood on the ship. He heard the crew shift backwards, and fought not to roll his eyes. Quickly, he threw the apple, and watched as the dragon flew backwards to catch it mid air. The ship rocked with the force, and Bilbo laughed even as he had to hold on tighter.

Thorin was white-knuckled on the side of the ship. When Bofur handed down another apple, Bilbo shook his head and nodded to Thorin. He was given an incredulous look. but Bofur followed through. Thorin took the fruit with steady hands and held it out.

Two heads appeared out of the water this time, and one dove after Thorin’s hand. Out of restrained terror, Thorin dropped the food and watched as the Scauldron dove after it. The other head had dove under the waves and was now nudging at Bilbo’s feet, and he stroked the dragon’s head with his foot. He dove under the water to blow bubbles at the dragon, resurfacing when the dragon pushed him upwards. The baby opened his mouth to lick at Bilbo’s face, but he quickly smacked the dragons nose. “None of that now. What would your mother say?”

The dragon didn’t seem to mind, instead nuzzling at Bilbo’s torso for more apples. The other dragonet, having lost interest in Thorin, joined its sibling, and they began to needle their way into his chest. Bilbo patted them and rubbed their horns, smiling all the while. “I’d forgotten how affectionate baby Scauldrons can be.”

“Baby!” he heard Thorin gasp. Bilbo looked up just in time to see Thorin looking back into the water and obviously resisting the urge to join his company on deck.

“Of course, these are just young ones,” Bilbo said, placing a kiss on one of their noses. “Don’t let them bite you though, they don’t have control over their venom like their parents do,” Bilbo commented, followed by asking for another fish.

Thorin gave him a wide-eyed look. One of the dragons had moved over to Thorin, and was peering up at him. Bilbo’s eyes followed as Thorin gripped the ledge one-handed, pushing his body against the ship as the dragon drew closer. Bilbo huffed, scooting along the edge to Thorin’s side holding out his free hand. The other was pure muscle, and when he tried to retract, Bilbo had to strain to hold his hand steady. The Scauldron, blind to the man's terror, reached forward and rubbed against Thorin’s hand.

There was a sudden blast of water as an adult Scauldron nosed its way out of the water a length away, roaring. The babies instantly dived back into the water, swimming back to their pod.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Bilbo muttered as he clambered up onto the deck, seeing that Thorin was already on deck and drying himself off.

“You didn’t tell us about the venom,” Dwalin snarled, walking up to Bilbo and poking him in the chest.

“Would you have let me show you them if I had?” Bilbo replied dryly, wringing his clothes out. “Besides, I have the cure to Scauldron venom, since it’s also the only known cure to Dragon Flowers.” Bilbo huffed.

“Dragon flower?” Thorin asked from around Dwalin.

“Yes, a deadly flower. Nasty business really, it can kill a dragon in under a day and when burnt can kill a human. It also goes by the name of Blue Oleander,” Bilbo said wiping the water out of his eyes and sighing when he realised Dwalin had not left his personal space.

Bilbo stared at Dwalin, unimpressed, as the man kept trying to stare him down. “Peace, Dwalin.” Thorin called and Dwalin’s jaw went slack. “If we’re to learn about dragons we’re going to have to learn that there are dangers with it. We can’t stay ignorant to the world.” Thorin said, all questions about the Boneknapper forgotten. And Bilbo called it a victory to see him not looking at Dwalin and Bilbo, but looking out over the ocean towards where the Scauldrons had been.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far, and I dearly hope you're enjoying. If you have any questions I can always answer them on tumblr I'm Antisafic there as well


	4. For the Dreaming and the Dancing

After the incident with the scauldrons, Bilbo thought the others would be disaffected with him - merely on the basis of him being a liability. As it was, it only endeared (some of) them to him. Dwalin was still wary, and several other crewmembers just didn't seem to give a bite about him. Fili and Kili - who he learned were Thorin’s nephews - in particular were more often than not at his side pestering him with questions. He didn’t mind them so much, as they reminded him of his own family. It was oddly comforting here with these strangers.

With them being only one day out from Rivendell, Bilbo felt a little lighter around the crew. He still had the bitter taste of anger whenever he thought about Myrtle or Gandalf, but Bilbo was a forgiving man. Or tried to be. Holding a grudge wasn’t in his nature and having spent time in the presence of these strange foreign men he knew he could one day forgive them entirely for the slight.

“So this Boneknapper?” Fili asked one evening at dinner. Bilbo stopped eating, long since anticipating this question. Never daring to broach it unless prompted. “Why is he a _bone_ knapper?  And you said this was personal. May I inquire?”

“I am curious as well.” Thorin said putting down his tankard.

Bilbo swallowed down his ale and contemplated his answer.“A Boneknapper is part of the Mystery class. There is still a lot unknown about them. I’ve seen and met very few in my lifetime. That is the breed of dragon Smaug is. We do not know why he covers himself in gold and jewels - there, he remains an oddity.” Bilbo started and paused to let it sink in before continuing..

“A boneknapper’s skin is very weak and thin, so they cover themselves in the bones of deceased dragons. Once completed, they calm down and become very trainable. Before that, they are very dangerous and even the best trainer cannot approach them.”

“So he has not completed his armor?” Balin asked.

“That seems the most likely cause. I empathise with your cause, we lost many good people to his fire. We were so depleted and broken we couldn’t go after him.” Bilbo answered shivering in the memory of the boneknapper’s fire. Suddenly the food in front of him lacked it’s appeal and the movement on the boat made him nauseous.  “He came to the Shire long ago when I was only a lad. Had we been stronger that day, you would still have a home.” Bilbo said struck with the realization. He sighed and added “I’m deeply sorry and I will talk no more about this.” Bilbo stood up and retreated as much as he could to the other end of the boat hidden in the shadows were the touchers can’t reach.  The more he thought and talked about the dragon the more real he could feel the fires licking his neck and the screams of those dying.

The darkness calmed him, and in it’s place came a wash of embarrassment. He was a Chieftain, uncomfortable conversations were a daily part of life. He took a deep hissing breath, maybe they’d chalk it all up to a cultural misunderstanding.

“We have upset you.”

Bilbo shouldn’t have been shocked but he couldn’t stop his body from jumping a little at the suddenness of Thorin next to him.

“Yes, but I have had years to cope. I should have handled that better.” Bilbo shrugs.

“I lost my father and brother.” Thorin says quietly and Bilbo hums in return. He doesn’t feel he needs to say more and to his amazement Thorin doesn’t press him. They sit in silence listening to the waves rock the boat.

The last rays of the sun set on the water, washing the whole world into full night save for the sliver of moon on the horizon. He rests his head on this arms and sighs and humms low under his breath, thinking of his parents and happier times.

To his utter surprise, Thorin started to hum along and Bilbo couldn’t even start to feel embarrassed of the type of song they are now sharing. “I’d swim and sail the savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning.”

“And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.” Thorin finished and Bilbo smiles.

“How do you know that song?” He asks. “I had thought that it only belonged to the southern isles.”

“Dis’s husband, Fili and Kili’s father, a merchant by trade, came from Bree where we live now. It was their wedding song.” Thorin said quietly looking at Bilbo his lips just barely pulled up in a grin.

“It was my parents song as well.” He said back with a toothy grin.

Thorin actually smiled back now, and he held up an arm in invitation. Bilbo’s smile dropped in pure shock and he may or may not have stared at Thorin’s arm for a bit longer than was needed before hesitantly accepting. The dance, they found, was the same, and Thorin lead him through with practiced ease. Something broke in Bilbo heart; the last few time he’d danced this was on his mothers toes and with gandalf at his own naming day when he came of age. They sing quietly and Bilbo finds himself laughing, not even ashamed as he slinks into the feminine role. He hates his slight figure and shortness in height but when Thorin lifts him up in the last verse he couldn’t be more happy.   

It ends abruptly and with Thorin’s hands on his upper arms, a warm weight to the cold sea air that didn’t feel so cold an hour ago. He looks around to see blissfully that no one was watching, or if they were aware didn’t pry.

“I have not danced that dance since my parents passed.” Bilbo grins up at the other chief. There is a bit of adrenaline and a reminiscent feeling in his chest that makes breathing feel like he’s just swum the channel.

“Dis and her husband often sing it and dance in the house. Does it bring you comfort?” Thorin asks.

Bilbo nods and steps away. “It does. Thank you. I again am sorry for my behavior, it was uncalled for.”

“You remembered a time of great sadness. I do not think you need to apologise for anything.” Thorin counters. “You faced Smaug and his deadly fire but still you hold dragons and their kind in your heart. That alone makes you stronger than my people.”

“I don’t understand.” Bilbo says confused scrunching up his eyebrows.

“My people had little to do with dragons, as you know, and after Smaug.”  Thorin visibly tenses and looks away. “After Smaug and my father's death my grandfather went on a hunt, tried to find the dragons’ nest. I don’t know if he ever found it.”

“He never returned?” Bilbo guessed.

Thorin nodded. “We have been wary of dragons, to the point where we don’t even know the basics to survive one.” Thorin states a bit of his usual strength coming back. “I want to learn, especially since you have already proven that not all dragons are vile. I want to change my people’s ways.” He finishes. “Will you help us?”

Bilbo’s mouth went slack, and he stared at Thorin’s blue eyes as they bore into his own, seeking redemption and a promise of a different path. “Of course. I already told you, didn’t I, that I would teach you about dragons, and I will.”

Thorin’s lips pull up at the corners again. Unlike the other times, Bilbo feels something pull behind his navel and he’s too happy to notice or to decipher what it is.

“Thank you.” Thorin said. “Would you like to return to dinner, or stay out here? I think your sudden departure had ill effects on my nephews - think they believe that they caused you great distress.” He huffed, but there was laughter underneath it all.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here for a few minutes. I’ll join the rest of the crew again soon,” Bilbo promises. Thorin nods and turns away; Bilbo waits until Thorin is just out of earshot before whispering back. “Thank you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it despite its shortness and I hope to have the next chapter soon. (Also as a side note, I'm working under the assumption that the song was a hit and spread. It plays a pivotal role a couple times)


	5. Old Friends

Bilbo sat idly whittling a piece of bark under the guise of boredom as Thorin’s company set up camp. While he seemed relaxed, he was paying attention to a changewing wrapped around a tree trunk, it’s head just a claw away from the fire that Gloin was attempting to make. His mouth was quirked at the edges as the man failed yet again to light the wood only for his fire to be extinguished.  

 _Well, time for another lesson_ Bilbo decided, standing up and brushing the dirt from his legs. How he had missed the ground. They had docked the ships half a day ago and now would hike the rest of the way to Rivendell. Bilbo had never traversed gone to the hidden valley on foot, so he wasn’t certain how long it would take, but he knew the way.  

“Before we get supper going, may I suggest another lesson.” he called. The camp suddenly became quiet. Whenever Bilbo spotted a dragon he would call to teach about them, but they hadn’t encountered another herd up close since the scaldrons. Bilbo was hopeful this lesson would go well remembered. Eyes darted left and right, up and down. If he wasn’t careful, he’d finally give in to his laughter as the Changewing mimicked the men, looking around in confusion.

It was fascinating now that Bilbo knew that their hatred bore from ignorance rather than malice. They danced around the dragons and missed things that Bilbo had known from birth. It was a childlike wonder watching and teaching about dragons through new eyes.

Without any further prompting Bilbo picked up a pebble and began to toss it up in the air, catch it, and toss it again.

Refreshing. That was it. He’d long come to depend on the simple comforts that dragons brought. They were dangerous, yes, but like a sword, he was honed into their nature and thus felt in no peril at their presence.

Eyes watched Bilbo’s movement as he tossed the stone but this time at Gloin. The man lifted his hand to catch it but ungracefully fell backward on his bum with a shout as the changewing caught the stone with it’s snout and begin to copy Bilbos action. With it’s focus on the stone and not on its self-preservation, the dragon had shed its natural ability to blend in with its environment. They were hard to spot on a normal day, but Bilbo had felt the air warm around them - the first clue to any dragon presence.

The entire camp was silent and still, not daring to breath as the dragon now solely focused on its task, clambering forward to keep bouncing the stone into the middle of their camp.

“Changewings...” Bilbo starts picking up a another stone and tossing it, this one not even coming back down to him as a changewing behind him picks it and starts bouncing it. “travel in packs, it’s very rare to see one alone. They can imitate the earth around them in self-defense, since they are very vulnerable to attack. Like the Boneknapper, they have thin scales.”

Two other changewings joined in, uncamouflaged. Ori - whom Bilbo had grown fond over shared conversations - squeaked in fright as a changewing tugged at his scarf with a spiked tail. At his outburst the dragon backed off and lowed to the ground in shame. Bilbo laughed and gently walked over to the other one who had remained hidden behind Bifur and lured it out with a wave of his hand til it came closer. This was one older and a deep red almost seeping into a greenish hue of old age. The leader.

As the dragon came closer it thrashed it’s tail and he gave a quick intake of breath as he saw it was missing a good portion of it. It couldn’t be…

“”Silverheart?” Bilbo hesitantly asked. The dragon perked up immediately and Bilbo’s heart jumped. “Silverheart!” Bilbo gasped and put out his hand to stroke the dragons nose. The changewing immediately melted at his touch and purred into his hand rumbling. Antenna came up and wrapped around him and he was nudged closer till he could hug the dragons neck. “Oh you poor old girl.” Bilbo whispered.

“Bilbo?”

Silverheart let him go, and he touched foreheads with the elder. He turned to see Thorin had moved closer and was looking at Silverheart in interest. “This is Silverheart.” Bilbo began. “She is, well, she was Celebrían's dragon. Elronds wife, and mother of Arwen and the boys.” He looked back at the dragon lips barely tugged up. “I guess they let her go, or she left. I really don’t know.”

“She passed?” Thorin guessed quietly.

“About three years ago, she was out on a trade negotiation and was captured by some vagabonds, she returned home but not unharmed. I saw her briefly the spring after, but something had broken inside her. I will not share more, it is not my place.”

Bilbo had to remember to breath. Elrond and Celebrían had been a great council to him after his mother’s death. They had guided him in his newly acquired chieftain status. How many letters had he sent concerning his fears? How many letters had he received that calmed his soul and eased his heart? He hadn’t seen Silverwing in years. To see her now reminded him again of Myrtle,  and his careful composure cracked a bit.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and gave a watery smile. Well things may not be changed, but this would be an excellent chance to teach.

“Silverwing, will you help me?” He asks the dragoness. “These men need guidance in the ways of dragons. I could use all the help I can get.” Silverwing purred into his chest as Bilbo swung around to face the other members.

“Changwings are curious by nature. They were once under the mystery class but it has been under some debate if that should change since many have been tamed since.” He continues. “They are dangerous, so don’t go poking one willy nilly. They shoot an acid that can burn through anything, and let me tell you, you do not want that on your skin. He reached down and unhooked his boot and pulled it out to reveal a missing pinkie toe. “Their acid will melt the skin from your body. Just a word of caution” He said reveling in the way the men’s eyes widened.

“How?” Bofur asked looking from the Changwing and back to Bilbo, drifting to his toe.

Bilbo chuckled “A childhood accident, nothing more.” He said and gave a pointed look at Silverwing. “These dragons are hard to tame but are extremely loyal, they need attention and a constant presence. They are smart and prone to mischief.” He explained as he petted the shedragons nose. “We need to start getting you all dragons soon. If you ever hope to face Smaug you’re going to need it. Nori.” Bilbo said looking right at the redhaird man gesturing for him to come closer.

Nori didn’t budge and merely narrowed his eyes. Bilbo sighed. “I’m not asking for much, but you have an attention to body language and a speed that I think will work for this. I’m not asking you to jump on their backs and ride into battle.” He grins.

Nori still looks entirely unsure but nods nonetheless and walked stiffly over to the changewing. Bilbo reached forward and gripped Nori’s hand, leveling it to Silverwing, who nuzzles close in a heartbeat.

While he leaves Nori to pet the aging shedragon he manages to wrangle the dragon by Gloin over to Nori by playing with a stone in exaggerated hand movements. There, he motions for Nori to pet the untamed changewing.

Hesitating but now more sure, Nori lifts his hand. The dragon moves closer, but doesn’t move in, instead bringing its tail around to poke at a hand. Nori startled pulls his hand back and in turn the dragon retracts quickly opening his mouth. Bilbo smiles as Nori instantly sits, head low but still looking up. Nori looks back at him briefly, and Bilbo nods his approval.

The changewing now looks confused, dropping down on its belly and slowly scooting closer to Nori. The redhead gives one more look to Bilbo, who gestures with his hand to back up. The moment Nori starts to scoot back the dragon pushes forward and rests it’s head on Nori’s knee, looking at him. The thief stiffens and slowly reaches out a hand to pat a scaly head.

Bilbo lets go the breath he was holding in. He had a lot of faith in his companions, but there was always a tense moment before contact.

Silverwing nudges him, and he turns as she raises her head and lets out a series of guttural noises. The changewings suddenly lift up and disappear into the trees. Bilbo’s pleased to see that Nori looks downtrodden but he doesn’t say it. This is what he wants. For them to want to work with dragons, not dragged kicking and screaming.

“Well, that went far better than I hoped.” he says letting himself relax.

The rest of the night went by uneventful. Bilbo supplies Nori with all the questions he has about Changewings and they’re unique self defense. As the fire dies down and everyone settles for the night Bilbo can just barely hear a cry of some wild dragons far off in the distance. When he is just about ready to put his pipe away now fully relaxed Thorin sits down next to him.

“Bilbo?” Thorin asks quietly.

“Yes.” Bilbo answers tapping out his pipe and cleaning the bowl.

“I’ve been wanting to ask. Myrtle was your mother’s dragon, correct?”

Bilbo very nearly dropped his pipe, he knew exactly where this was going and that was an old wound. Scared deep to his bone. “What of it?” He akses back with a bit more bite than he intended.

Thorin sighs and turns fully to him, looking at him with a tilt to his head. “What happened to yours?”

Bilbo bits the inside of his lower lip. Curse this man and his perceptiveness. He didn’t want to explain it, but he owed Thorin the truth on some level. “Just because you can tame a dragon, does not always mean you should.”

It’s blunt and crude but Bilbo couldn’t, wouldn’t talk about this with a stranger. The worst night of his life was the night he lost his dragon, a part of himself. Nightmares of falling haunted him for years. He stared at the dying fire and suddenly felt the bitter tang of blood on his lips. Bilbo licked his lips briefly and sighed.

“Please, leave it be. Know that I feel your pain for your lost home. I will help you take down that Alpha if it’s with my last breath.” He said slowly. Stiffly he got to his feet and wondered over to his bed, all the while feeling icy blue eyes trail his every movement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry for this late update. It has been a busy couple of weeks for me. That aside I will also be working on two fics for the Hobbit Reverse Big Bang so I'm putting this fic on temporary hiatus while those are getting worked on. If I find time and I might I'll work on this fic, but it will be sparse and in between. Thank you everyone who has followed this so far and know that I love all of your comments.

**Author's Note:**

> So, while I really shouldn't be starting anything new, this idea just demanded to be written. Thank you to my beta Kailthia, who has filled out this story and kept it's flow.


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